Chapter 22

M y ribs felt intent on crushing my lungs, every shallow gasp an effort. The minutes dragged while my pulse raced.

I glanced at the inactive ritual circle, the dagger right where I dropped it. The trail of sanguine and dark green had burned into a black stain, the other ingredients turned to ash. It was a demanding spell, took a lot of my focus and power, and even now, the vibrant magical residue buzzed in the air.

I clicked my tongue at the singed edges of our clothes, courtesy of the wild flames. The manual hadn't mentioned fire .

Had I ruined the ritual when I interfered, catching her when she collapsed? Or maybe I set it up incorrectly from the start?

No. I hadn't made a mistake.

I had recited the words perfectly. The ingredients were correct, too.

Per the instructions, I'd used her old lock of hair as a piece of her past, a fresh strand cut right then as a piece of her current self. Her blood as the tether to the present, and my blood—the blood of someone who was close to her in her past life—as a conduit. Though the text had assumed a fully mortal caster, not someone like me, tainted with demonic essence.

I adjusted Kerys's head in my lap. Carefully, I peeked beneath the bandage I had wrapped around her hand, ensuring the cut had stopped bleeding.

A smile curled her lips, but it did nothing to assuage my worries.

What was the normal duration for this kind of ritual?

My tail lashed across the tiles, throwing sand into the air. Nerves raced through me, dropping like a ball of iron into my heaving stomach.

What if she never woke up?

The fear on her face had been plain. I should have stopped, put an end to this madness. She wanted to know the truth and Hells— I wanted her to know it, too. I wanted her to remember and love me again, but the risk was too great.

How could I have been such a fucking idiot?

I should have accepted her fury if I told her no, if I refused to go through with the ritual. An argument, even her hatred, would've been better than harming her.

I barked a sardonic laugh, startling a vulture picking at the desiccated remains of a desert fox.

And her memories?

Fuck her memories.

Finally, my mind had cleared. I'd been so obsessed with recovering the past, I was destroying our future in the process.

I'd rather have this version of my wife than lose her forever.

I realized that now. Too fucking late.

If she died again, not even the most talented necromancers, not even a fucking bargain could bring her back. No mortal soul could survive being forced back into the realm of the living twice over.

Kerys convulsed, and immediately, my heart was in my throat. Whimpers escaped her, prompting me to lift her into my arms. Who could say if she felt me, if she knew I was there, but on the off-chance she did, I wanted her to know she wasn't alone.

Her struggle intensified. Arms lashing, legs flipping. Her brows were drawn, rivulets of sweat running down her temples. Tears welled from beneath her shuttered lids, streaming along her cheeks.

I cradled her tight against my chest. She hit me in the face, splitting my lip, and I licked the sour blood off.

I counted the seconds. If she didn't wake soon, I'd have to get her out of this trance … but how?

Maybe I should have taken Emily along after all, but this was private, not for her to?—

A shrieking cry ripped from Kerys's throat, and her eyes flew open. Her lashes fluttered as fast as a butterfly's wings, her glassy gaze disoriented, lips moving wordlessly.

I let out a thin, relieved snicker. "Kerys, my priceless treasure. My darling wife." I gave her a soft squeeze as I pressed a kiss to her forehead. "I'm so glad you're awake. I was worried about you."

Finally, she snapped out of her daze, and our eyes locked. Her chin trembled.

"Are you injured?" I asked. "Any pain or?—"

"Murderer!" she screamed, her voice shrill. Her fist hit my cheek. It was a weak punch, and the grimace twisting her features told me it had hurt her far more than me.

She must have been terrified, bewildered, still only half-awake.

I flexed my jaw, smiling. "I don't know what you saw, but the trance is over, Kerys. You're safe now. It's me, Skrain."

"Let me go, you murderer!" She pushed against my chest, and I allowed her to scramble to her feet. I didn't want to scare her more.

Fingers shaking, she yanked up her tunic, feeling along her stomach. Every muscle tense, shoulders rounded, she backed away toward the ritual circle.

"I thought you were aware of my past." I smirked, shrugging. "I am indeed a murderer. And so are you, by the way. We've gone over that, and the stories of our crimes got you pretty hot last night."

My possessive instincts told me to get up, catch her, hold her, but she was frightened enough. I wanted to clear up her confusion first.

"No. Me!" Kerys yelled.

"You what? Why don't you slow down a little, tell me what you experienced during your vision, and we'll talk it through. I'm here for you."

With a clank, she tripped over the dagger, barely catching her balance. She snapped up the weapon, knuckles bleeding white.

I thanked my lucky stars that the unnatural poison streaming through my system nullified the usually acidic properties of demonic blood. Otherwise, the residue on the hilt would have caused severe burns, eating through her mortal flesh like carrion beetles. So long as she didn't try to read the demonic runes, she was in no danger. Touching them wouldn't harm her.

"You're a liar and a murderer! You tricked me!" She jutted the blade at me. " You killed me!"

My gut hardened, and my jaw dropped. I pushed myself to my feet. "This isn't funny, Keryssa," I wheezed, suddenly fighting for breath.

" You killed me!" she repeated, gaze flicking along the horizon, then back to me, head ducking. " You left me to bleed and burn, right here in this house!"

My eyes widened. Phantom agony shot through my chest.

Her death .

Of all things, she must have relived her death. No wonder she was so upset.

I forced down the panic shooting through my blood. For her sake, I had to pull myself together, help her figure out what happened.

"Please," I raised my hands, showing her my palms, trying to calm her. "There must have been a mistake. Something went wrong with the spell, twisting your vision of the past. I swear I didn't harm a hair on your head. Tell me what you saw. I beg you, Kerys. Give me a chance to explain, please."

She chewed on her lip. "I-I was in bed. You were going to be home late because, uh … you had gone to sell a shipment of chipped emeralds."

I gave a slow nod, taking a single step toward her. "Correct. I remember that part. You asked me to delay the meeting, but I told you we needed the money. We had a small argument before making up quickly."

"Y-yes. I fell asleep, alone. Then you came in, it was the middle of the night. I was so happy to see you, b-but you—" Her voice trailed off, returning thinner than before. "You were strange. Didn't speak. There was s-something in your hand. You hid it behind your back, sat down next to me and … and-and—" She looked down at herself, pressing her fist and the hilt of the dagger to her abdomen. "You stabbed me."

My blood chilled. "Shit, Kerys, I-I have no fucking explanation why you saw what you saw, and I understand you're scared, but?—"

"You said you were sick of me!" she screamed, and I flinched. "You said I was too needy, only wanted your money!"

I shook my head. "Fuck that! Come on, I would never say that, and you know it!" I hit my chest with a flat palm. "My money means nothing to me if I can't share it with you. I'd give it all up for you!"

She wasn't even listening. One arm clutched around her belly, she took unsteady steps backward to the edge of the roof.

"And then, you fucking liar, you disgusting murderer! Betrayer!" she screeched. "Then you burned me! You burned everything! It hurt so much! I hate you, Skrain!"

Her words were a hangman's rope around my neck. My heart seized, and I wasn't sure it would ever beat again if she stopped loving me.

"Listen," I rasped, unspent tears burning behind my eyes. "My darling wife?—"

She swung the blade, slashing through the air. "Don't ever call me that again!"

"When I returned it was the crack of dawn, and—it was already over. I was too late. The house was in ruins, and you, you were dea—" I tried to say more but my throat locked up. I ran my hands along my horns, gasping for air. "I wept over your charred corpse until my tears ran dry and I swore to never cry again."

There hadn't been a day I didn't relive losing her. It was my punishment. I needed to remember. Forgetting would have been a mercy, one I didn't deserve.

"But you're right," I said through gritted teeth. Shame forced my eyes to the ground, my tail going limp, feeling heavy as lead. "I am guilty. Guilty of leaving you by yourself, guilty of not saving you. But it wasn't me who killed you."

"What is that supposed to mean?" she spat, cheeks a blotchy red from frantic crying.

"I should have stayed with you. I was desperate, but I should have checked the contact's background, taken my time. It was my fault for falling into the trap your ex-husband's brother set. There was nobody at the mines, only the nightshift workers. I waited for hours, and no one turned up. He just wanted me out of the house. Ytzal Xyrkor killed you. Not me."

Doubt played in her narrowing gaze, and I took another step closer.

"Ytzal?" she echoed. "But why?"

"By killing your husband and taking over the mine, we ruined him. He lost everything. I should have seen it coming when the bastard wasn't in the mansion on the night of the revolt. I should have known he would want to take revenge and struck preemptively. We had guards on duty at home, like always, but the few who survived the inferno never saw him enter or leave. I've spent decades trying to piece this puzzle together! Decades!"

Her nose wrinkled, the weapon shaking, lowering. "Then how would you know it was him?"

Heat flared in my belly, licking into my chest, filling my veins with pure rage.

"Because he left a mocking note of admission pinned to the wall of the garden." I clenched my hands into fists, vines worming to the surface of my palms, forcing their way through the space between my fingers. "The bastard wanted me to know it was him. He wanted me to fucking know that he'd taken everything from me, just like we had taken everything from him. A man with nothing left to lose is the most dangerous. He didn't even fear death, told me where to find him."

Her frown deepened. "And then?" she asked.

"I went and slaughtered him. Then the rest of his family. All of them, every distant relative, every spouse. I cleaned the stain of the Xyrkor bloodline from this realm."

She hesitated before raising the dagger again, keeping me at arm's length. "I don't believe you," she bit out.

This was impossible. How could the truth have become so skewed?

"I can show you Ytzal's note. It's at home, in my office."

She shook her head, features hardening. "No. I'm not going back with you. You're a good liar, but I'm not buying it. Who says you didn't forge the letter? Whatever you're after, you won't get it from me. Your tricks won't work a second time."

"When you died, I took out a loan, hired the best necromancers in this realm, but no one could reach your soul. It was unlike anything they'd ever heard of," I choked out. "When they failed, I prayed to every God. I pleaded, asked them to make a deal with me, to take me instead.

"That was the day I lost my faith, Kerys, because not a single one of them answered. Not one. I offered my life. My wealth. I would have done anything to save you, given anything to bring you back to me. I would have murdered and ravaged, torn the desert asunder to have you in my arms again."

"Liar," she hissed, an onslaught of emotions crossing her face.

Hate. Love. Horror. Disbelief.

"I couldn't live without you," I mumbled, the words sizzling on my tongue like hot iron. "When I realized you were truly gone forever, I rode back to the ruins of our home, took my dagger from my belt and"—I pressed my hand onto my chest, to that arrhythmic thudding—"pierced straight through my heart."

"You deserved worse," Kerys spat.

Her hostile words drove a spear of ice between my ribs, yet I nodded.

I did deserve worse. Not for the reasons she thought, but for my failure to protect her.

"As I lay, bleeding out, my pulse slowing, the final contraction a breath away, the demon, Aculeus, came to me. I thought I was hallucinating, a mass of thorns and swirling shadows surrounding me. He said he could save us both. He offered to help me survive, make me more powerful, and bring your soul back to this living realm."

She scoffed. "And you accepted so you could find and torment me? Break my heart? Kill me again? You must truly hate me!"

"No, I?—"

She took another step back. "I'm leaving." Another step. "And I never want to see you agai?—"

Her foot slipped at the edge of the roof. The dagger tumbled from her hand as she yelped, falling backward.

Instinctively, a smooth vine shot from my hand. It snapped around her waist, catching her, yanking her close against me.

For a second, she was stunned. Then she screamed, trying to land another blow to my jaw, but I saw through the maneuver this time. I grabbed her wrists, holding them behind her back.

"Let me go!" she wailed.

"No."

I flipped her around, wrapping my arms around her, pressing her back against my chest. My tail encircled her ankles, immobilizing her further, but she didn't stop writhing.

"You can't force me to stay with you!" she shouted.

"Yes, I can. And I will, Kerys," I stated calmly.

She kept struggling against me, and I released the second vine from my other hand. This one wasn't as harmless. I brought it close to her face, making sure she got a good look at the large, black thorns, glistening with poison. Finally, she froze.

"You're confused," I gritted out. "The spell must have gone wrong, but we'll figure it out together. You're coming home with me nevertheless."

Whatever had happened, it changed nothing. Keryssa was still my wife. She belonged at my side.

"I will make your life torment , Skrain," she hissed, venom in her tone, but she didn't dare to move with the thorns threatening her. "I will make you regret this!"

A dry laugh fell from my lips. "I'm counting on it, my priceless treasure. Give me your worst, Kerys. I'd expect nothing less from you."

The vine slithered along her neck, pressing in tight, injecting her with a weak mixture of poison to make her sleep. Her muscles slackened. Head lolling and eyes closing, she mumbled something else, no doubt no less vile than her other comments.

My shoulders rose in a long sigh as I picked her up. Carrying her in one arm, I shoved the dagger into my pack and grabbed it before skidding down the side of the roof.

My jaw set as I walked to our horse.

For a century, I hadn't given up on us. And I had no intention of giving up now. She would see the truth, or I would make her see it. Whatever it took. However long it took.

My wife had returned to me, and I wouldn't let her escape me again—even if she was to be my captive for the rest of her life.